


The Scariest Hood You'll Ever Hang Out In

by Samanthadavis1066



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samanthadavis1066/pseuds/Samanthadavis1066
Summary: Red eyes glowed briefly in the dark.“Hello, big bad,” he said, nudging the door shut with his heel.Eight years ago, Derek became an adoptive father to his distant cousin’s children when no other relatives can be found.  Stiles, home for the summer from college, comes to his rescue … and never really leaves.  Co-parents Derek and Stiles, figuring out what their relationship is after eight years in each other’s pockets.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	1. In Sync

Kicking back in the kitchen chair, Stiles scrolled through his feed, listening with half an ear to the ruckus upstairs. Giggling, followed by a quiet, deep voice, and more giggles. Stiles sighed happily; there was nothing more pleasurable than it not being his turn for bedtime. A particularly loud squeal made him pause, and he stared at the ceiling for a second before mentally shrugging and going back to admiring vacation pictures from his colleague’s Spring Break trip.

Twenty minutes later, he looked up from falling down the rabbit hole of Croatian history to see Derek stagger down the stairs. Well, he walked normally, but Stiles put the girls down every other night. He knew mental staggering when he saw it.

“Do you think we should take the kiddos to Europe sometime?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn't even react to the random topic, just snorted, picking up the bread bag and spinning it closed, wrapping the zip tie around the end. 

“They have to eat more than chicken nuggets and carrots with ranch before we take them somewhere that might not have chicken nuggets or ranch. Or PB and J, I guess.”

“Or bunnies...” Stiles said. “But did you know that Dubrovnik is the Jewel of the Adriatic?”

Derek didn’t answer, which Stiles took as an invitation to share all he had learned in the past few minutes of research as Derek silently scrubbed the jelly from dinner off the counter, then walked out of the room. Stiles didn’t bother to raise his voice, knowing Derek could hear him just fine anywhere on the first floor.

“...and then, Richard the Lionheart made it, but the people of Dubrovnik convinced him to build the church in their city instead of where he actually landed -”

“It’s calendar night,” Derek cut him off, returning to the kitchen table with his laptop. 

“Shit, yeah, let me go grab mine.” He said, suitably distracted. He jumped up, running to the living room. “I finally got the schedule for softball,” he said, coming back to the table with his computer and an empty, opened envelope, dates scrawled across the back. “Practices are four-thirty to six, so that’s better than last year. Games don’t start until May - I think the only ones that I can’t do are the second week of May, I have to go to that New York conference that week. I can put the dates in.”

He sits back down next to Derek, watching as he flips between the dance company website and the family calendar.

“Second week of May, Maddie has class pictures and her last competition. I know I can’t do that hair, so Allison or Erica?” Derek asks.

“No, dude - Lydia. Allison is too nice and Erica will lose her temper with Peyton’s mom and piss her off, and then she’ll be even more of a pain. That woman’s always insulting my braiding, but in that way that sounds like she’s trying to help the poor incompetent dad. Lydia will cut her down and that woman won’t even know what happened to her. Everyone feels better afterwards.”

“I thought we were avoiding having Lydia do dance stuff so she didn’t try to lecture you around about makeup?” Derek asked, making a note anyway to ask Lydia to pencil in the competition.

“Eh, at the Christmas recital she told me Mads’s eyeliner wasn’t totally terrible, so I think it’s safe.”

“What dates for the games that week?” Derek asks.

Stiles flips the envelope sideways and squints at the scrawl. “Tuesday and Thursday - the twelfth and fourteenth.”

“Okay, pictures are on Sunday before and the competition is Saturday after, so I can at least go to both. Wait, will you be back in time - or here on Sunday?”

“Naw, I leave Sunday morning and the conference goes through Friday evening, so I don’t think my flight is until Saturday morning, maybe even mid-morning. I might make it to watch if the times are late enough, but not for hair and makeup.”

Derek flips back to April in the calendar. “Okay, dance comps on the eleventh and twenty-fifth, third grade concert on the sixteenth. We have that meeting on the twenty-first with the Andrews’, so we’ll need to get someone to take them that night.”

“Maybe Dad? He hasn’t had them in a bit,” Stiles suggests.

“Yeah,” Derek murmurs, making another note. “And you?”

“No school April 24 for PD. Umm...board meeting on the twentieth, we’re presenting something about the new social studies curriculum. Oh, and they’re doing a show choir clinic on April 17 - practice a few nights before that. Those conflict with a couple t-ball dates, but I think Luce’d like it?”

Derek nods. “We can just play catch some with her if she wants. I think that’d be good.”

“We can ask Maddie too, but I don’t think she’d want to. Lemme add the full moon on the eighth… Okay, let me put these in so we can do a final check.” 

Stiles hums quietly as he inputs the T-Ball dates, Lucy’s purple slowly taking over spring weeknights as events appear. There are green pack dates interspersed with Maddie’s weekly dance classes in teal and maroon school events. Derek’s yellow and Stiles’s blue are barely represented. Such is what happens to your personal life when you have kids, Stiles supposes.

“Finally,” Stiles says, leaning back and ripping the envelope in half in celebration. “I don’t see any issues. I think we’re good.”

Derek closes his computer and leans back as well. “Another calendar night survived.”

Stiles snorted. “Just wait until they’re older and we have clubs and more sports...we’ll miss these days.”

Derek groans quietly. “Why are baths so bad lately? I think we need to bring back the lavender soap. Remember how that knocked them out?”

“They were also one?”

“I’ll try anything. Anything.”

Stiles stands, running his hand along Derek’s shoulders as he takes his computer back into the living room. “More of the show?”

Derek nods, then follows him to the living room.

Stiles thumbed off the game console and leaned his head back, groaning. Derek had only watched two episodes before taking his book and heading upstairs. But tonight was the night for rabbit holes, and before Stiles knew it, he was ridding the world of assassins and terrorists and it was past midnight. Fortunately, it was Derek’s morning for breakfast.

He checked the front door and back, turning off lights as he headed upstairs. Derek’s door was slightly ajar but the girls’ were closed, lights off in all bedrooms.

He hesitated for a second, then headed to his own en suite bathroom, brushing quickly. Dropping the toothbrush on the counter and his clothes into the hamper, he walked across the hall in his boxers, pushing the ajar door open further.

Red eyes glowed briefly in the dark.

“Hello, big bad,” he said, nudging the door shut with his heel.


	2. In the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he could nap again. Eat a real meal, make sure his dad was eating real food instead of all that processed crap. And maybe jerk off more than once or twice a week in a rush at his house so super sniffers at the loft couldn’t tell what he’d been up to.

Stiles’s eyes flew open in a panic, a breath caught in his chest. The scratchy blanket had slid down past his knees, and the cold air of the loft made him shiver slightly as he sat up. Resting his head on a hand, he squeezed his eyes shut hard and cracked his neck as his heart pounded. He wasn’t sure what woke him but if he waited long enough, someone was bound to need him. 

It’d been two weeks of bouncing between the loft and his house, dragging laundry bags to the washing machine in their basement that didn’t cost an arm and leg like the laundry room in the apartment building. His days and nights were full of bottles, diapers, crying, and tummy time. Fitful naps in his own bed before returning to the loft where he slept on the couch and felt better with the babies close. Refusing to sleep in Derek’s bed because he honestly wasn’t sure he could haul himself back out when needed. Stiles wasn’t even sure he could name his last three meals. There might have been pizza for breakfast.

He couldn’t imagine how Derek had survived the three weeks before Stiles arrived, except by sheer determination and superhuman strength. His dad had called one evening when Stiles was surveying his apartment for his PS4 remote, concerned that Derek might not be as great with his new adoptive daughters as he was telling everyone. “I think he needs help, but he won’t take it from me,” his dad had said quietly. 

Stiles decided his roommate could mail the remote, threw his toiletries in a bag, and set the alarm for six a.m.

Before, Stiles had babysat occasionally in high school, mostly for deputies who were needed on a scene and couldn’t find someone fast enough. He was smart, though, and research was a thing he was really good at, so he assumed he could help. He would laugh in two-weeks-ago Stiles’s face now. He’s pretty sure nothing truly prepares anyone for 24/7 care of infants. Stiles had started by reading every parenting blog he could about how to give baths and what to do when the girls wouldn’t stop crying, but it was becoming more instinctual as the days went on. 

He knew Lucy liked the night and hated bathtime unless you sang to her non-stop, and Maddie would be happy to spend most of her day under the floor jungle but hated the swing. Both cuddly and awesome-smelling and best yet, they seemed to really like him back.

The pack would start filtering into town in the next few days, but Stiles had been flying solo helping Derek long enough, he didn’t know if he wanted to secede his role as co-caregiver to everyone else. Yesterday only he had been able to calm Lucy’s crying with an energetic performance of “Rocket Man” after Derek paced the floor for twenty minutes. Once the rest arrived, Derek would have enough helpers that Stiles would probably cut back his allotted time in the loft to once a week or even less. He just knew Scott and Isaac were going to be such baby hogs. He could feel his time with the girls running shorter and shorter as their arrival approached, and refused to think about how sick that made him feel. 

Maybe he could nap again. Eat a real meal, make sure his dad was eating real food, not all that processed crap. And maybe jerk off more than once or twice a week in a rush at his house so super sniffers at the loft couldn’t tell what he’d been up to.

A whimper came from the crib in the corner. He stumbled over, looking down at the girls. They were identical, so Derek and he had resorted to assigning them colors - Stiles refused to use gender-typical colors, so blue and green - and religiously dressing them in their assigned color to tell them apart. Maddie in blue was fast asleep, but Stiles could clearly see Lucy staring back at him in the weak light. He leaned over, gently detangling her from their mini puppy pile, and pulled her to his chest. She snorted quietly into his neck, nuzzling closer, and it didn’t matter how many times he did this, it still elated him that he had the power to calm a fussy baby. Walking to stand in the weak light coming through the window, he swayed slightly, humming.

“That song’s about drugs,” Derek said from behind him, censure in his tone.

Stiles was proud that he didn’t jump. Hitching Lucy up closer to his neck, he turned, gently patting her back. He manfully didn’t look at Derek’s bare chest as he stood at the bottom of the stairs in only a pair of sleep pants. Stiles had kicked him out of the living room - metaphorically, no one moved Derek without him wanting to go - hours ago after he yawned for the five thousandth time (or something). 

“If you think she’s never going to hear the song with her name in the title, you’re so wrong, dude.”

“What about a nursery rhyme?” Derek suggested, moving into the moonlight with Stiles.

Stiles laughed quietly. “I almost started with ‘Afternoon Delight’. LSD is such a better option here.”

“Want me to take her?” Derek asked, reaching for her abortively.

Stiles shook his head slightly. “I’ve got her. Bottle?”

Derek headed to the kitchen on silent bare feet, quickly mixing the formula with a prefilled bottle of water. Stiles brought her from his shoulder to a cradle, taking the bottle from Derek as he passed to sit in the rocking chair. He didn’t dare return to the couch. His body knew that was where sleep happened, and struggled to tell when it was appropriate anymore. He fell asleep two days ago only five minutes into Batman vs. Superman. He was still so embarrassed.

Derek sat on the couch instead, watching them. Stiles fidgeted with Lucy for something to do, gently rubbing her cheek with his fingertip as she ate.

“I gotta get my cuddles in before the pack comes back,” Stiles said quietly, hoping his heart didn’t give away how awful it sounded to not be at the loft. 

“Why, you going somewhere?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged with one shoulder. “I just figure...everyone’s going to be around to help, I won’t get as much time as I have been.”

Derek was silent long enough Stiles glanced up at him. He looked confused. “I told everyone to hang back. Too much turmoil can make babies anxious, especially cubs. They can visit for a few hours, but not all day.”

“I just thought - well, I mean, maybe you wanted more help?”

Derek’s brow furrowed. “Oh.” He looked down at the floor, away from Stiles’s eyes, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. I think we’ll be okay. I mean, if you want to go home. I didn’t mean...” He trailed off.

“Dude,” Stiles said, leaning forward slightly. “I want to be here. I’m sad at the idea of leaving them. But I thought you’d want your pack around to help. I mean, I’m pack but I’m a squishy human - maybe I don’t smell as good to them. Or something. But I really like the girls, and -”

“You smell like pack, too,” Derek interrupted. “Cubs use scent to recognize family, pack. Right now that’s only you and me, they have to learn everyone else.”

“So I’m friend, not foe?”

Derek looked pained. “No, I mean, yeah, but you’re also - you can get them to calm down so much faster than me, and I … they really like you. They … they would be sad if you left.”

Stiles looked down at Lucy, her eyes shut as she took the last draws of her bottle. Gently taking it away, he grabbed the cloth from the end table and threw it over his shoulder before repositioning her and patting her back. “I would be sad too.”

Stiles stared out the window sightlessly, aware of Derek’s heavy gaze on him, listening to Lucy’s quiet grunts. Finally, Derek cleared his throat, and Stiles glanced over at him.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Derek said slowly, quietly. “You’ve helped so much. If you need a break, I understand. The girls will be fine.”

Stiles shook his head. “I want to help. If you’re okay with me being on your couch, I’m here.”

Lucy burped loudly, and he laughed. Derek almost smiled. “I’ll have to get you a better blanket,” he said, pulling the scratchy one from under him. “This one sucks.”

Stiles stood up, walking over to the crib and gently placing Lucy back in. She turned and rolled towards Maddie, seeking out her warmth.

“You’re going to need a bigger place, dude. Just make sure it has a guest room.”

Derek came over and stood next to him, looking down at the girls. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my own parenting … dance moms, makeup, and hair are no joke.


End file.
